Where Were You When ?
by Celebrie
Summary: We go back to the past to see what each of the members of Mutant X were doing on Christmas Day 1989. Emma's up! Only Adam left now.
1. Jesse

Disclaimer: I'm using the characters from Mutant X, (which I don't own), to have a bit of fun. Please don't sue!  
  
Author's Note: I got the idea to do this story from a friend who suggested something within the concept of "where were you when Kennedy was shot". It's set at a point in the past where we visit each of the members of Mutant X and find out what they were all doing at that point in time. Just a bit of fluff to pass the time. Hope you enjoy.  
  
***  
  
Where Were You When . . .?  
  
Christmas 1989  
  
The snow was falling heavily, enveloping all the familiar landmarks and changing the view from the window into another strange white world.  
  
A little boy sat at the window watching the snowflakes drift earthwards. His chin rested in his fingers, which were on the windowsill. His blue eyes clouded over as he lost himself in his thoughts.  
  
He had been a bad boy. His dad had told him so, and he was never wrong. He just hadn't been able to help himself. He had kept awake all night long, waiting fro Santa to bring his presents, and as soon as the muffled noises from the den had stopped, he had crept downstairs to have a look.  
  
As he had looked through the various parcels, he caught sight of a familiar shape and pulled it towards him. This was it, he had thought, his eyes gleaming with excitement. The remote control car with all those cool functions.  
  
He had sat under the tree for ages, just looking at the parcel marked "Jesse", wishing he had x-ray vision, until he couldn't stand it any more. He had carefully picked open the parcel to expose the best present he could have wished for.  
  
He didn't know what had woken his parents up, but as the elation ran through his small body, his father appeared in the doorway, his mother cowering behind him.  
  
"Jesse Kilmartin, what do you think you are doing?" he had raged, his face getting so red that the eyes blazing with anger shone out all the more.  
  
"I gave you a direct order to go to sleep and not touch any presents until Christmas morning."  
  
Jesse had cowered as his father swooped down on him, picked him up by the collar with one hand and confiscated the car with the other.  
  
"You won't be seeing this again for a very long time," he had bellowed as he thrust the boy into his room and took away the much anticipated present. He had lain in his bed trying to stem the tears of frustration all night.  
  
Christmas morning dawned and still his dad kept up the punishment by banishing him to this room. He had been standing at the window for so long that his fingers were numb. His mother hadn't tried to buffer his dad's anger at all. He thought she was probably scared of him too.  
  
A thought entered his mind. If his own mother was scared of her husband, maybe that meant he wasn't as perfect as he made himself out to be. He had wanted that car for as long as he could remember. It wasn't fair that his dad had confiscated it. It wasn't as if he was a bad boy all the time. The mutinous thoughts grew inside the blond head as a plan began to form.  
  
He listened carefully and heard his parents talking in another room. Well, his dad was barking orders and his mother quietly whispered in reply. The coast was clear.  
  
He walked over to the end of the room and faded through the wall to emerge into the den. He kept walking and passed through another wall to end up inside his father's private office. No one was allowed in there - not even the maid.  
  
He saw the bright red car sitting on the immediately. He picked it up and ran to the open door. No one was around. Stealthily he made his way to his playroom and picked up an old bag. He placed the car lovingly inside it and ran out of the room towards the front door, stopping only to pick up his coat.  
  
As soon as he closed the front door behind him, the snow battered his coat relentlessly, but he was determined. He wasn't going far. Down at the end of the garden there was a small alcove where the bushes didn't quite meet in the centre. He had found this hidey-hole a while ago and it had proved very useful so far since it was practically invisible from the outside. Carefully he put the bag with the car down and covered it with earth and leaves. He knew the snow would do the rest.  
  
As he approached the house, phasing back into the room he had been banished to, he heard his dad yelling. He had discovered the disappearance of the car and he would be coming to interrogate the young boy. No matter. The car was safe now and he would never find it. He could face his angry father now - he knew his car was safe.  
  
***  
  
Feel free to R&R, and any ideas for the other members will be welcomed. 


	2. Shalimar

Author's Note: Thanks for the feedback. As you can see, I decided to do Shal next. Next on my list will be Emma, followed by Brennan. Somewhere along the line, Ill fit Adam in, but I'm not sure where yet!  
  
***  
  
Christmas 1989 Shalimar  
  
"Shalimar," a pretty young woman called out of her kitchen window. "Shalimar, where are you?" Inside, a man was sitting at her kitchen table.  
  
"She'll come in when she's ready," he moaned at her. "As usual," he finished irritably under his breath.  
  
The young woman at the window turned away irately, her skirt swirling around her shapely legs. "Why does she always do this to me?" she ranted.  
  
Just outside the window, a grimy face surrounded by a mass of matted golden blonde curls snarled angrily. They were always nagging her to become a 'nice young lady'. Well, she didn't want to, and there was nothing anyone could do to force her.  
  
She leapt over a nearby wall and sprinted away down the dark alley, her vision perfectly suited for seeing clearly in dark situations. Christmas, pah, waste of time. The only presents she ever got were cosmetics, hair stuff or frilly blouses and skirts. Her mother was trying to turn her into her clone.  
  
She leapt behind a trashcan and curled up instinctively. She wasn't sure why, but she felt more at home here than anywhere else.  
  
A cautious, inquisitive purr made her turn. She reached out and scratched the curious cat between the ears. The cat padded forwards and came to rest on her lap, walking round and round until it was comfortable, then curled up into a tight ball. She continued stroking it, feeling the emotional tension being released from her body.  
  
A tear rolled down a dirty cheek, leaving a trail of stark while skin in contrast. People recoiled when they saw her eyes flash yellow. She couldn't control it. Whenever she felt her animal side taking over it happened, and she couldn't control her animal side either.  
  
Her sensitive hearing picked up a sound from the mouth of the alley. Instantly, she was alert, placing the cat gently on the floor as she crouched behind the trashcan. There was a gang of teens, not much older than she was, hovering at the alley entrance.  
  
"You sure you saw her come this way?" one boy whispered, not thinking he could be heard by anyone inside.  
  
"Yeah, man," came the reply. "She's definitely in here somewhere. Check behind those trashcans."  
  
Shal looked around cautiously. The alley was a dead end. She couldn't get out without passing the teens. As they came closer, she stood up, feeling her animal side coming out. Her eyes flashed dangerously, but the boys were too far away to see them properly.  
  
A look of glee crossed the ringleader's face. "If you come along quietly, we won't hurt you."  
  
"Too much," another one finished for him evilly.  
  
She smiled at them as she crouched down in a defensive pose.  
  
"Let's show her the real meaning of Christmas," the first one leered.  
  
One of them suddenly lunged at her clumsily, but she dodged nimbly out of his way.  
  
"Little girl is gonna put up a fight?" he mocked. As if by a general consensus, the rest of them attacked her together.  
  
Her blood was roaring in her ears, but she felt alive. She kicked out crudely, catching one boy on the jaw and flooring him. She hit another with her fist, and as it hit his solar plexus he doubled over, gasping for breath.  
  
The two remaining boys held back, wondering at her speed and sixth sense for fighting. She always seemed to know where each of them was and how to bring them down. Finally, they put their doubts behind them and as one of them ran at her, the other kept back, unseen behind her. As she swung her leg around to sweep the first boy's feet from under him, the second one grabbed her hair and pulled her head down.  
  
She shrieked in pain as her hands went up to grab at the boys wrists. With a sudden movement, she lifted him off his feet and swung him to the floor where he landed heavily on his back. He lay there staring up at her in astonishment for a few numb seconds.  
  
"Let's get out of here," he cried, a little belatedly, since the others had come to their senses quicker than him. He scrambled up and away from the wild girl behind him, running after the other retreating members of the gang.  
  
She straightened up and surveyed the scene - her domain, as she thought of it. This strange ability, this strength, if she couldn't control the animal, she would use it in order to make them all leave her alone, she decided, her eyes flashing yellow yet again.  
  
Let them all fear her.  
  
*** Please keep the reviews coming. I've changed my settings to be able to accept anonymous reviews, and it would make my day if you reviewed! :o) 


	3. Brennan

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, they did make my day! (I'm easily pleased like that!) Well, it's not Emma next, I'm afraid to say, but she'll be coming along soon, I promise.  
  
***  
  
  
  
Christmas 1989  
  
Brennan  
  
Two teenage figures made their way down the street, one dark, tall for his age, striding along the street as if he owned it, even at his tender age. The younger one was smaller, slimmer, and walking in quick, uneven paces trying to keep up with his friend. It was plainly obvious that he held his older friend in awe. As they passed families enjoying their Christmas Day together, and young girls playing with their new presents in the snow, the younger boy noticed the familiar stares of female attraction being focused on his best friend. He saw that, as usual, he was not acknowledging them, and wondered whether the older boy ever actually noticed.  
  
They had grown up together and been inseparable for years now, making it all the more significant that they should experience this important day together. This was going to be a big day for them. The day they graduated to the big league. The older boy was experiencing some twinges of conscience about dragging his young friend into it, but he needed the support.  
  
Memories were running through his head as if he were watching a film. His mother came into focus, mouthing the words through the flood of tears. Slowly, the sound became clearer as he heard her words through the sobs. Telling him his father was never coming back. Telling him he would never get to know his father, never go to a game with him, never talk about girls with him.  
  
He had naively always thought that his dad was in another part of the country, and he had been waiting patiently for someone to tell him where he was. He had finally grown impatient and asked his mother when he could go see his father. It still felt as if it was only yesterday, when in fact it had already been years ago. That had been his first experience of adults not always being sympathetic, or fair, or just right.  
  
It wasn't fair that his father had gone off to fight. Wasn't fair that he had been shot down. No one had the right to disregard him and leave him there as if he was a worthless, replaceable piece of equipment. He was just left there to rot, or be executed, whatever came first.  
  
He could feel the familiar tears welling up behind his eyelids, but he blinked them away, burying the self-pity and forcing the anger back into the forefront of his emotions. It just wasn't right. If this was the way humans were treated after a lifetime of rule-following and law-abiding, then he wasn't going to live by a set of principles they had concocted.  
  
So far, his record extended to a few sweet shops. Today was going to be different - an expensive electrical appliances store. They approached the store, situated in a handy back street. They were confident in the fact that it would be empty and that the owner would be wrapped up at home with the wife and kids, enjoying Christmas morning. Blocking the younger boy's view with his body, he shorted out the burglar alarm with a handful of sparks, and they were in.  
  
They chose the more expensive appliances, cramming all they could carry into the canvas bags they had brought with them. He didn't know what he was going to do with all this stuff. He certainly didn't want any of it. It was simply something to do. A way of getting back at the people who had robbed him of his father.  
  
As they both left the store, his friend panting with the excitement from the dangerous situation, Brennan felt numb. They ran most of the way back to their secret hiding place, thankful of the sanctuary. They emptied their spoils onto the ground and the younger boy's eyes shone as he surveyed their success.  
  
"Will you look at all this great stuff!" he breathed. "What are we gonna do with it all, Brennan?" he asked breathlessly. His companion remained silent, his dark eyes flicking over the games consoles on the ground. "Bren," the boy nudged him again.  
  
"We'll spread it out between the children's ward at the hospital and the children's home," he finally decided quietly.  
  
The boy stared at him in horror. "You can't do that!" he exclaimed.  
  
"They're not ours," Brennan replied. "What are you gonna do with all this stuff anyways? If the police come searching your house, they'll find it all." The young boy looked thoughtfully at his best friend.  
  
"I suppose you're right," he finally conceded. "Can't I keep just one?" he continued after a moment's quiet thought.  
  
"Do what you want with your share, but I don't need any of this."  
  
As he walked away from his hidden treasure, he could feel the void inside him constrict a little. He'd done it. Strike one against the establishment - and it was only the beginning.  
  
***  
  
I'm not sure whether to do Adam or not, so unless someone gives me an idea of what he might have been doing on Christmas Day 1989, I'll leave him out.  
  
Please carry on reviewing anyway. This is so different to what I usually write, that I still need feedback. 


	4. Emma

A/N: Here you go, all you Emma fans out there! Hope it lives up to your expectations.  
  
  
  
Archive: Feel free to archive this if you really want it, but let me know where, OK?  
  
  
  
***  
  
Christmas 1989  
  
Emma  
  
All was quiet in the little girl's bedroom. She was asleep in her bed, the anticipation from the night before having worn her out. Inside her head though, memories, thoughts and emotions were running wild. Her eyes snapped wide open as she awoke from another nightmare. She knew there was something different about her, something that always came to haunt her whilst she was asleep, whilst her mind was more receptive, but she knew to keep quiet about it.  
  
Her eyes roamed around her room, reassuring herself she was safe. The soft toys on the shelves, her paintings on the wall, all served to alleviate her worries. She had had a rather disjointed childhood, taken from pillar to post by her hippie parents, but within the past year, things had changed dramatically. She had always known that her parents loved her, it was just that they couldn't be bothered to look after her. When she had been taken to see her grandmother, she had realised that this was her opportunity. She had worked it so that her grandmother had felt pity for her and asked to care for her, and her parents had readily agreed.  
  
Now, she had her own room, decorated the way she liked it, and this was her first proper Christmas. She slipped out of bed and into her fluffy slippers, making her way quietly down the stairs. She could hear her grandmother in the kitchen, busily preparing a special Christmas lunch.  
  
She sneaked through the living room door to take a look at the tree, and gasped in amazement when she saw the parcels nestling under it. She approached them, hardly able to contain the excitement she felt. As she reached out for the nearest present, her grandmother came through the door.  
  
"You're up already!" she exclaimed as she swooped down to plant a kiss on her granddaughter's cheek. "Now, now, Emma. You know I told you to wait until after lunch before opening your presents."  
  
Emma's face fell as she heard the words. A memory formed in her mind. She could feel the emotion building up like a wave, threatening to drown her with its force. She closed her eyes, struggling to contain it. When she felt it more manageable, she gathered it in her mind and whipped it towards her grandmother. The woman stopped in her action of returning to the kitchen and turned towards Emma, confusion evident on her face. It was soon replaced by an indulgent smile as she returned to the tree.  
  
"Oh, go on, dear. I know you can hardly wait all that time until after lunch," she told her as she sat down with her to open their presents. Emma smiled happily. It wasn't always there, but when she felt it, she knew she could make people change their minds to suit her.  
  
As she began ripping open the first parcel, a wave of anxiety rolled over her, anxiety about the fact that the food was unattended. She pushed it away with her mind as she returned to the pleasant task at hand. It was getting harder to push away unwanted emotions as they grew stronger every day. Another wave swept over her, this time anger, threatening to engulf her. Anger at parents who leave their daughter during Christmas. Anger at the daughter who seems not to love her own daughter. Anger at the irresponsible actions of other people. The anger grew, taking over her head and filling it with a hot, fiery pain.  
  
She felt her grandmother's hand smooth her nightclothes down her back in a silent question. Again, the emotion hit her forcefully. Concern that there was something wrong. Worry that doctors may not come out on Christmas morning. Fear that a loved one was falling ill.  
  
"Grandma, stop," she pleaded as she felt the worry filling her head.  
  
"What is it dear?" she asked, her concern growing. Emma curled into a tight ball and rolled onto the floor. She held her head, as if trying to shield it from the emotions that were buffeting her. It was happening again. Invariably, whenever she felt able to influence other people's thoughts, the pain came back. She wasn't strong enough to push the emotions away.  
  
She felt a hand touch her forehead gently, smoothing away her long hair. She was picked up and cradled, rocking gently as the hand continued to smooth away the pain. Slowly, after what seemed like hours, the pain diminished, until only faint tendrils of foreign emotions remained.  
  
She slowly opened her eyes to see her grandmother's worried eyes searching her face. Emma sighed, exhausted from the ordeal.  
  
"I'm OK, grandma," she whispered softly. She only nodded in reply as she continued to rock her precious granddaughter. After a short while, Emma spoke again, trying to lighten the situation.  
  
"Grandma, you'd better get back to the kitchen soon, otherwise we'll end up having to call the fire brigade." She only looked at her, trying to read her face, understand what had happened earlier, but the girl's face was blank.  
  
"All right, honey," she replied with a heavy heart. There was something strange about the little girl. She seemed older and more mature than her eight years. All these headaches she was getting recently were worrying her too.  
  
She smiled to herself as she set to preparing their lunch. She knew she was very fond of the girl. She tried to be strict and fair, but always ended up giving in to her. She obviously had a blind spot when it came to her granddaughter, she admitted to herself as she felt a small hand creep around her waist.  
  
Emma smiled to herself as she intercepted that last thought. Her secret was safe.  
  
***  
  
After reading the reviews, I've got to agree that this collection of stories would seem unfinished without Adam. Unfortunately, I still have that MAJOR problem that I know much less about Adam's background than I do about the others. I haven't watched very many episodes of MX, so I'm a bit stuck. I'm going to need help if I'm gonna be able to write Adam's perspective. If you don't want to leave a review, please e-mail me at gypsy181@hotmail.com if you have anything that you think might help. I'll give out e-hugs to everyone who helps me! How's that for an incentive?! 


End file.
